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I have a medicine-priest of the pale-faces and a warrior with me, but shall not put their scalps on my pole until they have paddled me further.
Sound like song of wren in my ear sweeter dan mocking-bird when he do his bess. Yes, dat won'erful. He true, too; for medicine-priest ask his Manitou to bless Injin, juss as Injins lift tomahawk to take his life. I see'd and heard dat, myself. All, won'erful, won'erful!"
When we are about to die, our voices become strong and clear. So do our eyes. We see what is before, and we see what is behind. We feel joy for what is before we feel sorrow for what is behind. Your medicine-priest spoke well. It sounded in my ears as if the Great Spirit, himself, was talking. They say it was his Son. I believe them.
Though invited to do so, Peter did not join them; leaving to Bough of the Oak, Ungque, and Bear's Meat the control of the result The question was whether the original intention of including this medicine-priest among those to be cut off should, or should not, be adhered to. One or two of the chiefs had their doubts, but the opinion of the council was adverse.
"We have got but two scalps from six heads; and one of THEM is buried with the medicine-priest." "Scalps cannot be taken from them that get off," returned Peter, evasively. "We must first catch these pale-faces. When they are found it will be easy to scalp them. If the canoes are gone, I think the medicine-bee-hunter and his squaws have gone in them. We may find the whole down the river."
After sitting in a thoughtful mood for some time, he again regarded his companion, saying, with the simplicity of a child: "Don't know how to do dat, Blossom. Hear medicine-priest of pale- faces pray, sometime, but poor Injin don't know enough to speak to Great Spirit. You speak to Great Spirit for him.
The pale-faces say the earth moves. If this be true, it moves as slowly as the tortoise walks. It cannot have gone far since the Great Spirit lifted his hand off it. If it move, the hunting- grounds move with it, and the tribes move with their own hunting- grounds. It may be that some of the pale-faces are lost, but no Injin is lost the medicine-priest is mistaken.
Den, most want to use tomahawk on his enemy. Den, most feel dat he hate him. But not so wid medicine-priest. Pray for Injin; ask Great Spirit to do him all 'e good he can; juss as Injin was goin' to strike. Won'erful most won'erful DAT, in my eyes. Blossom, you know Peter. He your fader. He take you, and make you his da'ghter. His heart is soft to you, Blossom.
When an Injin did me harm, I took his scalp. This was my way. I could not help it, then. The Wicked Spirit told me to do this. The Son of the Manitou has now told me better. I have lived under a cloud. The breath of the dying medicine-priest of your people has blown away that cloud. I see clearer. I hear him telling the Manitou to do me good, though I wanted his scalp. He was answered in my heart.
"Pottawattamie, you do not understand medicine-men. OUGHT I to have shown your young men where whiskey was to be had for nothing? Ask yourself that question. Did you wish to see your young men wallowing like hogs in such a spring? What would the great medicine-priest of the pale-faces, who is out yonder, have said to THAT?" This was a coup de maitre on the part of the bee-hunter.
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